Precious Possessions
by DragonsAngel68
Summary: Draco leaves something very special to him in the library and a certain redheaded witch finds it. His endeavors to retrieve his property ends up with him losing so much more than a mere material object, but he doesn't seem to mind all that much.


**_Disclaimer_**_: I don't own any of the characters you may recognize from the wonderful world of Harry Potter, they all belong to the revered JK Rowling; I just like to play with them a little._

**_Author's Note_**_: Thanks to Rainpuddle13 for the beta! Written for Rainpuddle13's Cat Burglar competition, though not entered, because I was a judge._

**PRECIOUS POSSESSIONS**

Draco cursed silently for the umpteenth time. He couldn't believe he was in this situation. It was unbecoming of a Malfoy to sink to such depths. His mother would have fit if she ever found out, and he shuddered to think what his father would say. Still, it was not like he had a choice. He had to reclaim his property. While he could have had Crabbe or Goyle take care of this salvage mission, it had to be handled with a degree of delicacy and the utmost secrecy. If he had involved them it would have prompted unwelcome questions; questions he didn't want to answer. One thing he knew for certain, if knowledge of this ever got out, he would never live it down, not in the house of Slytherin.

Why he didn't act the moment he saw her take it was a mystery to him, or so he liked to pretend. The fact was the memory of how quick that witch was with her wand hadn't faded. There was no way he wanted to put himself in the firing line of her Bat-Bogey Hex ever again. She had thoroughly humiliated him last time, and for that reason he was understandably wary. There was also the very real fear that if he'd made a scene everyone would have discovered his little secret—a thought that turned his blood to ice. Of course, he wouldn't have had to sink to hovering around Gryffindor Tower if he'd been more careful with his belongings.

* * *

_Earlier that day..._

The afternoon had been going so well — too well — and he really should have been aware that it was about to go horribly wrong. He'd managed to secure his favorite table in the library with little effort — a half-hearted scowl sent in the general direction of the first or second years occupying _his_ table sent the younger students scattering. He was feeling very smug as he sat down at the rear-most table with the good view of the door and spread his belongings out in the fashion to which he preferred, taking time to position everything just so, seeing as no one else was around to disturb him.

He'd just settled into a steady rhythm of checking facts and scribbling information on his parchment when a familiar giggle reached his ears. He paused and waited to see if his ears were playing tricks on him, but it came again. With a muttered curse, Draco scooped up his possessions and shoved them into his book bag, hoping that he'd be able to make his escape without being spotted.

Pansy Parkinson had become the bane of his existence this year. He knew she had her sights firmly set on being the next Mrs. Malfoy, but she didn't have a hope in hell in his opinion, and his was the opinion that counted. They were friends and would remain friends, because quite frankly Draco couldn't imagine life without the black-haired, supercilious witch, but she certainly wasn't his idea of a life partner. He just hoped she got over her pathetic simpering soon, because he missed her sharp mind and quick wit, but until she did, he was determined to avoid her as much as possible.

Draco glanced around surreptitiously, before striding purposefully from the library. Once out of the library, and a fair distance down the corridor, he breathed a sigh of relief. He'd made his exit without arousing the interest of Pansy or anyone else for that matter. Now that he was safe, he slowed down and adopted a more casual gait. He would go back to the common room and try to study there. As he rounded the corner, he stuffed his hand in his pocket and what he felt, or rather didn't feel, made his heart stop.

Without a second thought, Draco dropped to the floor and upended his book bag. After making certain nothing was left in the dragon-hide bag, he searched through his belongings thoroughly. As the minutes ticked by with no result his heart started to pump very fast and his skin took on a heated, prickly feeling. When he was certain the item was not in the scattered pile before him he sat back on his haunches, his gray eyes blinking at the mess. His most prized possession was gone. There was only one place it could be: _the library_. He'd been gone only a few minutes, so there was a good chance it would still be sitting on the table. Draco wasted no time stuffing his belongings back into his satchel and returning to the library.

He paused at the doors and glanced towards the table he'd been sitting at. It was there. Draco silently thanked whomever it was protecting his property and started in the direction of the table. His eyes remained firmly fixed on the table as he pushed past other students who dared to be in his way. All that mattered to him was claiming his property, before anyone else took a liking to it. He didn't even care if Pansy saw him at this time, just as long it was after his item was securely in his pocket.

When he was about twelve feet away from the table, he saw a hand close around his property. Draco froze, his eyes growing wide as realization of what was happening before him sunk into his shocked brain. A number of solutions ran through his head at that time, but he failed to act upon any of them. Instead, his eyes followed the arm up to the body it was attached to; seeing long red hair and freckles did nothing to improve the situation.

Of all people it had to be her who found his special thing. There was no way he could just ask for it back, she wouldn't give it to him without a full explanation, and there was no way he was going to be explaining anything to her, or anyone else for that matter. It was unseemly, and besides if she got any hint of how important it was to him she was likely to hold him to some outrageous ransom. Yes, she played dirty — like a Slytherin.

He watched in horror as she examined his property meticulously before stuffing it into her dilapidated book bag. Merlin only knew what would happen to it now. Still seemingly stuck to the floor, Draco stared at her as she strolled past him without sparing him even the briefest of glares. The thought that he might lose sight of her and his property got his feet moving. He snarled as he left the library behind her, quietly following her and the witch she was with. The moment she was alone, he'd demand she return his property and if she didn't comply he'd take it by force—consequences be damned. He had to get it back and that was the quickest solution he could think of.

Draco kept his distance and made certain neither of the witches noticed his presence. To his horror, when they reached a portrait of a rather obese woman, it swung open and they disappeared into what he assumed must be Gryffindor Tower. He smirked confidently and approached the portrait, waiting for it to swing open.

"Password?" the Fat Lady posed.

Draco snarled viciously at the portrait and spat a few foul expletives in her direction, before stalking off. Of course, it was too much to ask that the Gryffindors not have a password on their tower. There was no point in trying to talk his way into the tower; it would be a complete waste of time and he knew it. What he needed was somewhere to hide with a good view of the portrait, so he could see when she left the safety of her common room. A short way along the corridor he came upon a small recess. After a quick glance over his shoulder, Draco slipped, unnoticed, into the tiny space.

Patience had never been one of his greatest virtues, which was unfortunate in situations like this, because every minute felt like an hour. Fear that he'd miss dinner had him checking his timepiece often and growling to himself about her absence. Just when he thought he'd have to go hungry, she emerged from the tower, but much to his disappointment she had company in the form of Saint Potter, the Mudblood and her brother, Weasel. He grumbled to himself about the unfairness and prepared to leave his hiding spot, but following the trio and his quarry was a steady stream of Gryffindors. It seemed they had all decided to go to dinner at the same time. When he'd slipped into the recess, he'd not given any thought to how he might escape if all didn't go to plan. She was supposed to have left the tower alone, so he could get his property back and go on his merry way. While he waited to slip away undetected, he damned her to hell for spoiling his plans, and then cursed the steady stream of Gryffindor students making their way to dinner. He could have stepped out and tried to escape, but he was in enemy territory, alone. There was a good chance he wouldn't make it back to his common room without injury if he were to expose himself too soon.

He waited until the stream became more of a trickle and until the only occupants of the corridor were a few first years. If they saw him they probably wouldn't give his presence a second thought. With his chin tilted arrogantly Draco stepped from his hideaway and strode down the corridor with a sneer firmly etched into his features. The first years moved aside when he snarled and didn't dare say a word. He liked the way they averted their eyes when he walked past.

As he made his way to the Great Hall for dinner, his mind was working through possible plans to regain possession of this property. She'd shoved it in her bag, but did not have her bag when she left the tower for dinner, so it stood to reason that her bag, and his property, was in her dorm room. He couldn't just stroll through the door or portrait without the password. There was the chance that he could bully the password out of one of the younger students, but he doubted even Professor Snape could save him from Professor McGonagall's wrath if his method was discovered.

Dinner was spent glaring moodily at the Gryffindor table. It wasn't unusual for Draco to do this, so his friends and housemates thought nothing of his brooding. The general consensus was that he'd had an altercation with Potter again. Of course, the fact that he was watching the female Weasley went undetected by all.

He watched her laugh and chat with her friends as if nothing at all was wrong, as if she hadn't stolen his property. The way the Gryffindors ate was disgusting, but he didn't take his eyes off the table. When she finished her meal, he followed her from the Great Hall, his meal untouched. As he entered the Entrance Hall, Draco was pleased to see her still there. The only problem was she was talking to what he assumed was a friend. Rather than lurk about in the open, Draco strode past the pair of gossiping witches as if on his way to his own common room. He stopped just inside the corridor and spied on the pair, waiting for them to go their separate ways, so he could once again pursue the thief.

"What are you doing?"

Draco jumped visibly. So intent on watching his quarry he'd not heard anyone approach. "None of your business, Parkinson," he snapped.

Pansy peered into the Entrance Hall, noting the two witches talking. "You're watching Gryffindors?"

"Of course not," Draco answered quickly.

Pansy quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at her long time friend and pinned him with a quizzical look.

"I am not chasing Gryffindors," Draco reiterated slowly and clearly.

"Mmm... And why am I not convinced?"

"Possibly because you're stupid?" Draco suggested cuttingly.

"I resent that remark!"

"No, you _resemble_ that remark. Now go away."

The dark haired witch huffed indignantly and scurried off in the direction of the Slytherin Common Room. Draco knew she'd make some feeble attempt at making him pay for his comment later, but it didn't bother him greatly. Pansy and he had been sparring for years, and not done each other any permanent damage yet.

Draco turned his attention back to the Entrance Hall. He took a few steps out of the corridor to double check if what his eyes were telling him was true: _she was gone._ A hundred curses ran though his mind. He cursed the thief, Pansy, everyone but himself.

As he followed her from the Great Hall, Draco took off up the staircase, his long legs taking the stairs two at a time. It made sense, to him at least, that she'd return to her common room after dinner. By the time he reached the seventh floor corridor he was gasping for air; running the entire way was certainly not the brightest thing he'd done today. Much to his disappointment the redheaded witch was nowhere in sight.

Draco growled loudly in frustration. There was no way she could have reached her common room already, after all she'd have been walking and he'd been running, and he hadn't passed her on the way. The only logical explanation was that she hadn't come this way. He wandered miserably back downstairs, trying to think of a way to find her, retrieve what was his and have his life return to normal.

As the evening wore on, Draco became more and more frustrated. He stalked the corridors looking for a hint of Weasley red hair to no avail. To add insult to injury he knew what he wanted was in Gryffindor Tower, he just had to work out a way to retrieve it, because Merlin knew it would be so much easier if he simply stole his property back. It would save unnecessary questions from the last person he wished to explain himself to and having said information spread around the school faster than one could say Quidditch.

It was well past curfew when he gave up and returned to his own common room. The curious stares cast his way by his housemates were returned with a murderous glare before he stormed up to his dormitory. In the midst of his slamming things around, a calm voice intruded.

"Feel like talking about it?"

"No."

"Malfoy, you know you feel better when you get it off your chest."

"I don't want to talk about it, Zabini," Draco ground out.

"Fine, but don't accuse me of not caring. I just thought I'd offer an ear before heading off to visit a pretty little Ravenclaw, who's going to help me have the sweetest dreams."

"You're just being nosy, and all that Ravenclaw is going to give you is wet dreams."

"How wrong you are," Zabini said confidently.

"Where are you meeting her?"

"Why? Want to watch?"

"So I know where to avoid, should I get the urge to go for a walk."

"You won't find me, because I'll be in her dorm room."

"How are you going to manage that?"

"Broomstick and an open window."

"You are despicable."

"Thank you!" Zabini beamed at the blond wizard, accepting the compliment with pride. "Now I'll leave you to it, whatever it is."

Draco snarled at his friend as he left and resumed slamming his belongings around the room in a nonsensical fashion. Five minutes later an idea of epic proportions dawned upon him. With his broomstick in hand, Draco headed for the door.

* * *

He'd been hovering outside Gryffindor Tower for some now, but had in that time successfully identified the thief's dormitory with only one false alarm. The first time he'd seen a flash of red hair he'd been excited enough to fly right up to the window, only to receive a harsh reminder that the witch had a brother and that the Weasleys were true redheads. He shook his head to try and rid himself of the horrific memory again, but like a haunting nightmare, it steadfastly refused to leave his mind. The knowledge that Weasley was entirely covered with freckles was not only unwanted, it was frightening.

Now he could see the sixth year Gryffindor witches preparing to retire for the evening. Flashes of skin occasioned across his view, but he ignored them for the most part. That was until one foolish girl stood right in the middle of the window and stripped down to her knickers. Draco knew they wouldn't think someone might be watching them from this height, so anything happening outside the window was of no interest to them. All he could do was enjoy the view and rue the existence of school uniforms that hid so much promise. After he'd secured what he came for, he was going to make a point of getting to know this particular witch a lot better. She was reaching up to her hair. The way the stretch accentuated some of the qualities of her perfect body was making him react in a way not entirely good for his comfort when perched on a broomstick. He watched as long locks spilled over her shoulders and pert breasts. So caught up in the hormonal rush happening in his own body, it took Draco several seconds to realize the girl he was ogling was in fact the thief he was chasing. One would have thought that her red hair was a dead giveaway, but he was more interested in watching how it fell to notice the color.

Unable to tear his eyes away, Draco continued to enjoy the view while he made efforts to disconnect the knowledge of who she was from the spectacular body she had. Disappointment flowed through him when she pulled a garment over her head, covering her nudity. The witches in the room seemed to be settling down for the night. He could hear several calls of 'goodnight' cross the room, before silence reigned. Not wanting to burst in and risk being caught in the act, Draco bided his time some more.

All had been silent for about a half an hour when Draco dared to drift closer to the window. Once he had confirmed that the girls seemed asleep, he carefully dismounted his broom on the wide window ledge and slipped inside the room.

Five beds, set against the tower walls, circled a wood fire in the center of the room. With care, Draco started checking each of the beds, looking for his thief. As he determined each girl wasn't his target he cast a deafening charm upon them, just in case things didn't go to plan. When he reached the third bed a hint of bright red hair from under the covers told him he had found her. Just to make certain he carefully drew her covers back a little.

His heart leapt when he realized she had his property. He could see it. The problem was, it was encompassed in her arms. Before he acted to retrieve his property, he cast a deafening charm on the last girl in the room and then returned to Weasley's bedside. Draco carefully reached out and took hold of the small portion not in her grasp, giving a sharp tug to free his property.

A hand came out of nowhere and slapped his offending limb sharply, making him withdraw quickly. She muttered something in the haze of her sleep-befuddled mind. Draco didn't hear precisely what she'd said, but the words "hex you" came through loud and clear.

While Draco nursed his now stinging hand, he considered his options. There had to be some way to get her to release her grip on his thing. What he had to do was get rid of the covers, so he could see any potential attack coming and extract himself from the situation before he was struck. He gingerly reached forward and tugged the covers down her body to expose her arms.

She was wearing what appeared to be a worn Quidditch shirt. Draco found himself mesmerized for a few seconds. He liked the way the old fabric gently flowed over her breasts — breasts that were still fresh in his memory. He reached forward again and seized his thing, tugging it hard in the hope she'd roll over or something and loosen her grip. When she began to disturb and roll over, Draco held fast, determined to come away with his property. It wasn't until it was too late that he realized she was rolling with his hand, entrapping him. The more he tried to free himself, the tighter her grip got. Panic began to snake through his veins. If he was caught in here, and it looked likely that he would be, there was every chance he would be expelled.

Options paraded through his head and were discarded one after another. As far as he could determine there really was only one way out of this mess. Speed would be the key to a successful escape, so before he acted, Draco examined the path between the open window, where his broomstick was waiting for him, and where he was stuck now. He had to commend the Gryffindor witches for keeping a clean dormitory, but then with Professor McGonagall for a Head of House he figured they had little choice.

Draco drew in a deep breath and braced himself for the chaos he knew was going to erupt in just a few seconds. With a death-grip on his property he yanked his arm free of the girl's grasp and bolted towards the window. He could hear her scream and bellow something from behind him, but he was far too intent on escape to take notice of exactly what she was saying. As he reached the window, he made a wild grab for his broomstick and fumbled what he'd come for in the first place. Determined not to leave it behind, Draco released his grip on his broom and in a flurry of panic tried to catch his thing. It wasn't until it was too late to react that he realized his broom was tumbling out of the open window, without him aboard. Even so, he stretched forward with a panic stricken shriek in an effort to arrest the falling broom.

For a moment Draco did consider jumping after his beloved broom, but self-preservation and common sense immobilized his feet. The noise of the room suddenly came crashing down upon him and that was when he felt the very pointy tip of a wand pressing between his shoulder blades.

"Turn around slowly, Malfoy."

Not daring to tempt fate, Draco turned very slowly, holding his hands up so the irate girl could clearly see he did not have his wand at hand. His mind screamed at him that it would have been far safer to jump out the window and take his chances with the ground, than to stay here with her. The view, however, would compensate him a little for the pain she was likely inflict on his body.

His thief was dressed _only_ in the shirt he'd examined earlier. The slight chill in the air was making some parts of her delightful anatomy more prominent than usual, much to his appreciation.

"Weasley—"

"Why are my dorm mates sleeping through this?"

"Deafening charms are brilliant in situations like this," Draco replied smugly. "Now how about you put away that wand and—"

"Don't even try, Malfoy. You're not going to charm your way out of here."

"I wouldn't presume—"

Ginny's eyes grew wide with shock when she spied what he held in his right hand. She reached forward and seized what she'd come to quickly identify as hers. "You stole Archibald!"

"Archibald? That's no Archibald! It's Fluffikins!" Draco blurted indignantly before he could stop himself.

"Fluff—" The fiery haired witch almost collapsed with laughter. She was so amused that speech seemed to be beyond her at that point.

"It's not funny," Draco snarled.

"Oh—oh, but it is," Ginny responded unevenly, trying her best to regain some semblance of control. "Draco Malfoy has a _Fluffikins_!"

Draco reached out, snatching back the snowy white stuffed kitten with the delicate pink nose and amber eyes that had been his companion since first year. "She was my mother's," he informed her haughtily.

Ginny snorted with laughter. "Your mother gave you a stuffed kitten to bring to _school_?"

"This was hers when she was at Hogwarts." Draco sniffed. "She didn't want me to be lonely."

"Aww does ickle Malfoy get lonely?" Ginny teased.

Draco curled his lip at the impudent girl and snarled meaningfully. The explanation had slipped from his mouth unbidden and, of course, she was going to make him regret it forever.

"Do you actually think you're scary?" Ginny scoffed. "Now, do you have your wand on you?"

"What do you think?" Draco replied. He went to reach inside his cloak, but stopped when her wand pressed painfully into his chest.

"I'll get it out," Ginny insisted. "Keep your hands above your head or I'll hex you into next week."

Draco could do nothing but watch as she plucked Fluffikins from his hand again and tossed it over her shoulder. One of her hands entered his cloak and began patting him down methodically. Her movements weren't exactly what he would have described as 'business-like'; they were more akin to firm caresses. He watched the color rise in her cheeks as she felt his chest and he smirked.

"My wand isn't in my breast pocket," Draco whispered.

"I was just making sure you didn't have anything else," Ginny hissed in return. "Turn around and keep your hands high."

Draco obliged the girl without argument. As soon as his back was to her, she recommenced her one-handed patting down. His wand was discovered and removed hastily. If he thought the physical examination was over then, he was sorely mistaken. Her hand kept up its gentle assault on his body. When she reached inside his trouser pocket, Draco sucked in a sharp breath. He tried to not to react to her touch so close to his groin, but images of her standing before him without a stitch on invaded his mind. No matter what else he tried to concentrate on, the feel of her hand was impossible to ignore, as was his typical seventeen-year-old reaction.

As she retracted her hand he breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short lived. She dove into his other pocket without delay, eliciting an unmanly squeak from him.

"Something wrong, Malfoy?"

"Nothing," Draco ground out.

He could feel beads of sweat gathering on his brow as she drew closer to discovering his physical condition. Even though it was pointless, he still shrunk away from her fingers when she ventured too close to him.

"What are you hiding?"

"No—nothing," Draco stammered.

"We'll see about that."

There was nothing he could do when she shoved her hand in as far as it would go and seized the first solid thing it came across.

Draco gasped. "Please, don't pull."

"Why? What are you hiding?"

"I—err—" His brain stopped functioning the moment she gave a gently tug.

"What is it? Why won't it come out?"

Comprehension that she had no idea what she had in her hand allowed Draco to regain control of his brain function. "Well, Weasley, to get that out, you'd have to go through my fly."

"You've shoved something down your pants?" Ginny asked incredulously.

"Not exactly," Draco drawled. "It's always been there."

A nefarious smirk crept across his features as her fingers began to examine him more thoroughly. He knew she'd not finish the job and he'd be stuck with satisfying himself later, but the expression on her face when she realized what she'd been doing was going to be well worth the discomfort. Not to mention, at seventeen, he didn't much care whose hand was giving him a complimentary massage, just as long as it wasn't his own. An involuntary groan of appreciation escaped him as she leaned into his back to better facilitate her investigation. He could faintly feel the peaks of her breasts through his school uniform and just the knowledge that all she had on was that old shirt had his blood pumping just a little faster. There was, of course, the question of whether or not she was wearing any knickers — he liked to think not.

"You! You're enjoying this!" Ginny exclaimed withdrawing altogether.

"It's not every day I get molested by a witch wearing only a Quidditch shirt." Draco turned around slowly, sensing she was far too incensed to be of much danger, at least not until she'd yelled at him a bit.

"Molested? I wasn't molesting you! I was trying to remove that weapon from your pants."

"Allow me." Draco's hands went straight to his fly.

"What are you doing?"

"You want to see what I have in my pants, don't you, Weasley?"

"Don't you pull anything out or I'll hex you," Ginny demanded, waving her wand around his nether regions.

"Very well, why don't you pull the wicked weapon out then?" Draco stood with his hands in the air and his trousers open. He could practically see her brain ticking over as she regarded him curiously. If she bothered to question his compliance, he could easily explain it away with her threat to his manly bits.

"I suppose that's the safest thing to do," she muttered.

Draco released a silent hiss as her hand slipped into his pants. He could tell she was feeling around his leg blindly. "A little more to the left," he whispered.

She moved her hand over and immediately come into contact with the rock hard 'weapon'. Her fingers prodded it a little, trying to determine what it was before allowing it to be freed.

"Be gentle," Draco whispered thickly, enjoying every moment of her explorations. If he could keep her there a while longer the already planned trip to the lavatory was going to become unnecessary.

"That's—oh my—" Ginny snatched her out of his pants roughly. "You bastard!"

"Come on, Weasley, you need to finish what you started."

"How about I just—just hex _it_ off?"

"Now that wouldn't be very polite, especially after you've made _him_ so needy."

"If I removed _it_, _he_ wouldn't feel so needy," Ginny suggested caustically.

Whether it was the rush of testosterone flooding his body or the fact that all his blood had welled below his belt causing his brain to freeze, Draco didn't stop to consider what stepping towards her would achieve. He kept telling himself he'd taken leave of his senses for even thinking about getting closer to her when he should have been running in the opposite direction, but it was as if he were moving in a nightmare, unable to stop himself from rushing into certain danger. He watched with detached fascination as his knuckles grazed her cheek, and he noted a flicker of confusion in her warm cinnamon eyes. Spurred on by the fact that she'd not pulled away, or hexed his balls off, Draco dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers. She didn't react, but he didn't mind, because she didn't kill him either.

It suddenly occurred to him that there was a way out of this room, and if he were cautious, he wouldn't lose a limb in his effort to escape. Draco gently cupped her face with his hands and kissed her intently. When he felt her sigh into his mouth, he pulled her flush against his body. From what he felt through the thin fabric of her shirt, it seemed she was a little heated from feeling around his pants as well. After all, the chill in the room could only be held responsible for so long before acclimatization altered her reaction. Comfortable in the knowledge that she wasn't likely to attack him, Draco allowed his hands to begin roaming.

Her hands were clutching at his cloak, and he could feel her wand poking him in the back every so often. The ease that he extracted her wand from her hand surprised him. He had expected her to at least put up a little fight, but it had slipped through her fingers like melting butter. Once he'd slipped her wand up the sleeve of his shirt, his hands ventured to the hem of her shirt. Her firm arse felt delightful beneath his eager fingers and he discovered, a little to his dissatisfaction, that she was wearing knickers. Draco allowed one of his hands to drift up to caress the side of one of her unfettered breasts. This may have been simply a means to an end, but he saw no point in not enjoying it while it lasted.

As air became short they drew apart, but only a short way. Both of them were panting lightly, and he noted that her eyes were slightly glazed. A knot of something he'd not felt before was building in his stomach, but rather than stay around to see if he could work out what was causing his stomach to feel so odd, Draco backed away slowly. The red-haired witch made no move to stop him as he unveiled her wand when he got to the window and summoned his own. After using a powerful 'Accio' to retrieve his broomstick, he tossed Weasley her wand and flew off into the night.

* * *

Draco was watching the Gryffindor table closely for any sign of the fiery vixen who had totally befuddled his mind last night. Her lips, in his opinion, were more powerful than a Confundus Charm, and the Ministry should list her fingers as a dangerous weapon, capable of bringing the most extraordinary wizard to his knees. He had escaped her dormitory without incurring any bodily harm, but he'd forgotten to take what he went for in the first place: Fluffikins. Add to that, the visit he _had_ to pay to a very out of the way bathroom, on his way back to the Slytherin Common room, for a little personal comfort, and it wasn't any wonder he wasn't feeling terribly charitable this morning.

All of a sudden she was there, staring straight back at him, with a meaningful smirk on her face, from her own house table. He was wondering why she was looking so self-assured this morning — after all he had escaped — when the post owls came swooping into the Great Hall. One of the tawny school owls dropped a small scroll of parchment beside his breakfast plate.

Draco snatched in up and unfurled it. He didn't quite know what he had been expecting, but what met his eyes was the last thing he had anticipated.

_You left me behind last night._

_Fluffikins_

_PS: I'll be waiting for you in the Trophy Room_

_on the third floor this afternoon, after classes._

His eyes flicked up to find a now amused redhead laughing at him. Draco gave her a curt nod, as acknowledgement, and left the Great Hall before he lost his temper.

The day seemed to drag on forever, in Draco's opinion, and to make matters worse, every time he entered the corridors to change classrooms she seemed to be there, grinning knowingly at him, as if she had some grand secret. The truth was, she did have a grand secret — a secret that could destroy his reputation. Not that it concerned him at the time, because he was too busy trying to work out what he'd ingested that was making his stomach flip-flop uncomfortably.

After his last period, Draco didn't bother to return his book bag to his dormitory, going directly to the Trophy Room instead. As he approached his stomach began its odd fluttering again, and he decided that if it didn't calm down by dinnertime he might have to seek medical attention from Madam Pomfrey.

Draco searched the room thoroughly before coming to the conclusion that she hadn't yet arrived. Given that he wanted his mother's kitten back, he had no choice but to wait. Rather than sit still and look obvious, Draco roamed around the room examining the various trophies and shields in the glass cabinets. He found the Slytherin Quidditch Shield with his father's name on it and wondered if he'd manage to get his name on there in his final year of school. If only he could beat Potter to the Snitch, he'd be sure to find his name forever etched into Hogwarts history.

"Our bungling burglar is here."

Draco spun around to find the witch smirking at him confidently. "Weasley."

"Malfoy."

"Did you bring—"

"Of course, but the only reason I'm giving it back to you is because it was your mother's."

"I—err—"

"The word is _thank you_, Malfoy."

"You haven't given it to me yet," Draco responded haughtily.

Her hands disappeared into her bag and pulled out his kitten. "Here."

Draco stepped forward, almost cautiously, to finally claim his missing property. It felt like a bolt of lightening shot straight up his arm and exploded in his stomach when his fingers brushed hers as he grabbed Fluffikins.

"Well?"

"Thank you," Draco snapped or tried to; it came out half-hearted and almost inaudible.

"You're welcome," Ginny said as she turned to leave. She paused only a few steps away from him and turned to face him again. "You know, all you needed to do was ask for you toy back, and I'd have given it to you. It really wasn't necessary to break into my dorm last night."

"You'd have wanted an explanation."

"Probably."

"I didn't want to tell you."

"You did anyway, and I get the feeling not many people know about Fluffikins."

"No one knows."

Ginny nodded thoughtfully. "I won't tell."

"Yes, you will," Draco contradicted, unable to totally mask the tinge of sadness in his tone.

"My word is good for as long as you're a decent human being."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Draco snarled, suddenly feeling very much on the defensive.

"Well, making fun of me or my family is not very nice."

"So, if I don't make any comments to you about your family you'll keep my secret?"

"Yes."

Draco smirked. She couldn't have asked him to do anything easier in his opinion, because for some strange reason insulting this particular witch was the last thing on his mind. "Am I permitted to be nice to you?"

"Of course."

Again, he had the feeling of moving through one of his own nightmares, running headlong into danger when he should have been putting as much distance as he could between him and this particular witch. His body seemed to be moving of its own volition, despite his brain sending out warnings to run away the entire time. It was one thing to be nice to her, but quite another to do what he was about to do, most especially without an invitation. One of fingers lifted her chin gently as his mouth descended on hers briefly. "Is this all right?" he whispered, raising his head just far enough to move his lips.

Ginny nodded mutely at him.

Draco claimed her lips again and kissed her with all he had. Unlike the night before, she responded immediately, kissing him back with such feeling that the odd sensation in his stomach erupted into what felt like a hundred Snitches trying to escape from his body.

Lost in the sensations her mouth was evoking upon his body, it took him a moment to register the sharp push in the middle of his chest and the loss of her lips as she jerked away from him.

"What are you—"

"Shh," Draco crooned, shutting her up by sealing his mouth to hers. He could feel that she wanted this as much as he did, no matter how wrong everyone else was likely to think it was — no matter how wrong they both thought it was supposed to be.

He ran his tongue insistently along her bottom lip until she allowed him access. Her mouth was warm and wet, and tasted faintly of chocolate. The Snitches in his stomach began to send out rays of tingles to his extremities. Never before had his body reacted in such a way just from snogging a girl, and he'd had his fair share of practice with this particular activity. Again logic tried to make him see reason, tried to get him to run away from the witch who was befuddling his mind once more, but he pushed the voice inside his head aside and pulled her flush against his body. He didn't care that she would feel how physically attracted to her he was, in fact, there was a flicker of hope that she might feel the same and might just want to act upon those feelings. It was a long shot, but if he didn't try he'd never know.

She began to pull away first, though he got the impression she was hesitant to break the contact. Reluctant to let her go, Draco placed small kisses over her face. This was gentle treatment was something new for him. Even the girls he'd shagged didn't earn this sort of treatment. He usually had his way with them, then left without so much as an 'I like you', let alone soft kisses on a part of the body not known for being particularly erogenous.

"This is wrong," she whispered.

"It doesn't feel wrong," he countered softly.

"We can't— I hate you."

Draco's heart lurched painfully, even though her voice had held no conviction. "Do you really?"

"Yes—No." Ginny sagged against his chest. "I don't know."

"They say there's a fine line between—"

"I know what they say," Ginny snapped, cutting him off and taking a step away. "Why did you kiss me?"

"I don't know. I just did."

"There has to be a reason." She pinned him with a probing glare. "Are you just playing some silly game? Taking advantage of me?"

"No. I mean, last night I saw an opportunity, but not now."

"Go away."

In the shadowy room Draco thought he saw tears welling in her eyes and instantly an ache started somewhere in his chest. He reached out for her tentatively. "Don't cry, Weasley."

"Just go. Take your silly toy with you and go."

"I don't want to." Draco could have kicked himself for allowing that to slip out. This girl was making a mockery out of his legendary self-control. "I mean, I—"

"You what?" Ginny gaped at him with disbelief clearly imprinted on her features. "You snog me last night, so you can escape and you do it again now, but don't want to leave?"

"Weasley, don't ask me to examine why, because I don't know — I can't explain." Draco moved towards her and tried to take her in his arms, but she moved away. "What I do know is that I've been unable to get you out of my head all day."

"Don't! We can't."

"Give me one good reason why."

"You."

"What about _me_?"

"You hate me, my family and my friends."

"You scare me a bit, but I don't hate you," Draco admitted quietly. "In fact, after last night, I rather think I like you."

"Am I supposed to swoon at your feet now?" she asked acerbically.

"I've a feeling you're better than that." He reached for her again and was successful in placing his hands on her shoulders. "When girls behave like that they have no self-respect."

"You don't respect anyone."

"You're wrong. I respect you, and I think we'd be good together."

"We can't — our families—"

"Sod our families. If they don't like it they can go suck a cauldron."

She giggled — it was music to his ears.

"That's better. Now there are a few things I should make clear before we go any further. Number one is I don't share, so if any miscreant thinks he can glance your way he can think again or suffer the consequences."

"You're pretty confident, aren't you?"

"Did I mention that I'm terribly spoiled and accustomed to getting my own way?"

"I already knew that." Ginny smirked. "While we're setting rules, I think you should know that if any other witch dares to look at you the wrong way I will hex her clear into next century."

"I can live with that," Draco said, finally gathering her into his arms properly.

"When are we going to tell our families?"

"When the time is right. Maybe we could send owls now and by the time we go home for Christmas they'll have settled down?"

"I don't think it'll be that easy. Besides, have you forgotten that I have a brother at school? We can't sneak around all the time."

"No, we can't. I don't mind breaking the news to him."

"Draco—"

"Shh." He silenced her with his mouth. When she'd called him by his first name all the Snitches in his stomach went berserk. There should have been doubt in his mind for what he was about to embark upon, but in truth he'd never felt surer about anything. It wasn't going to be easy, but he had a feeling it would be worth it in the end, because somewhere in his efforts to reclaim his Fluffikins, Ginevra Weasley had stolen his heart.

* * *

_fin_


End file.
